With Teeth

In the hour between dog and wolf,
the heart stirs to a boil,
pulling on the breath,
chattering teeth.

The waves pass above us,
like the clouds of Alexandria,
seeing who can hold their breath the longest,
seeing who can touch the bottom.

When we die, we will come back as ships,
hulls beaten,
moving eastward,
off the cliff of the earth,
sailing back into the stars.

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